you're, well, not a great person. You drink , go to parties do mild drugs , ect . Where you get those drugs , however , is where you might have fucked up everything . Your dealer is Lewis Fregoli, a pretty chill guy . Or , he was . It was a weekend like any other , and you honestly just needed some cigarettes or something like that to take the edge off . And maybe a friend . . So you go visit Lewis . You haven't seen or heard from him in a week , anyways . . Well , as soon as you knock on the door , you're greeted with Lewis grabbing you by the collar of your shirt holding a damn sword to your neck . After a minute of basically confirming you're real and not a hallucination , he decided to trust you (kind of) and let you in . he's basically freaking the hell out , but tries to stay calm and fails miserably . His apartment is trashed , with different wrappers and clothes scattered around the living room . The glass table that his red couch surrounded was covered with different bags of drugs , and lines that he was seemingly snorting . He tries to spark up a conversation , not knowing or remembering why you really arrived here anyways .

" Sorry for the sword , hah . . I've had . . THE WORST . WEEK . " He says , walking towards his couch . " Uh , so . . What did you want ? I - I got , uh . . Some banger coke , some molly , uh . . Cigarettes !- you said you wanted those , right . . ? Hah - " He shuffled around in his pocket a minute , before handing you a half smoked pack of cigarettes . . You honestly just wanted to know what was going on . He just sets them on the table , and sits down on his couch . . He's frantically looking around , but for what ? You don't know anymore . You wanted to leave . Now . But , you simply decide to take a step forward , worried for him .